


Purple Ink

by Moonpuff



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: BIG SPOILERS BTW!, Literally everyone else is mentioned but ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonpuff/pseuds/Moonpuff
Summary: Danganronpa V3 Spoilers!!;;Shirogane Tsumugi makes her own killing game, despite being afraid of things she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand a lot of things, including why she sacrificed herself and her future for Danganronpa's entertainment.





	Purple Ink

Team Danganronpa is a world-wide sensation, and their immense following may seem absurd considering they broadcast killing games. Their “evil headquarters” lay splat in the middle of Tokyo, Japan. And the bright red “TEAM DANGANRONPA” sign above the building’s head screamed out to pedestrians that, in fact, they planned murdering games in that very establishment. It was a tall building, so high it may just have touched space itself. And if the sign wasn’t enough of a signal that it was the Team Danganronpa building, the height of the building itself might just be it. 

Team Danganronpa’s workers were proud of their jobs, and so were their families, their friends. It was something to brag about. They had “set” designers (builders), clothing designers, storyboard writers, secretaries; any sort of career that seemed plausible, they had it. It was a large building, covered in gorgeous posters featuring deceased participants from other seasons and Monokuma’s face plastered everywhere the eye could see (carpets, ceilings, walls, papers, gift shops). 

The amount of the “black-and-red-and-white” combo would make someone go insane, because there were few other colors. Even small schools full of elementary students would come and visit the headquarters, all in awe while they giggled at posters of dead teenagers and the words “hope” and “despair” covering the walls. 

The clothing designing line of workers was few, but they were key to having pretty, appealing participants. They had a lot of work to do before the season started, but laid back after it started and watch their gorgeous works of art become stained with hot-pink blood. They loved it, it was like watching a reality tv show (except Danganronpa was real, unlike those shows in America where they showed middle-aged women with so much botox and drama). 

Their youngest employee was a big fan of Danganronpa herself, very good with her hands. So much, that she was hired at the mere age of 17, almost eighteen. She crafted amazing costumes for season 51 and 52 of Danganronpa, so much that they almost promoted her (but they didn’t). Although she barely kept up with her studies anymore, the girl herself was intelligent, and apparently had “a lot going for her”.

That wasn’t the case when Tsumugi Shirogane volunteered to be the mastermind for season 53 of Danganronpa, one with a plotline and characters she wrote all herself. 

 

Lily Rose Girl’s Academy was very prestigious one. One that costs thousands upon thousands of yen to attend. But that didn’t matter much for Tsumugi, who dropped out of school so that she could spend more time with her Danganronpa Co-Workers. Initially, she wanted to keep up with her studies and her old social life, but that quickly dove down the drain.

She tossed aside her old identity, now receiving a new one. “Designing Team, Tsumugi Shirogane”, a pin with Danganronpa’s Mascot, a black-and-white bear, imprinted on the bottom right. She wore than pin everyday, under her jacket, out of work, at home. She loved it from the bottom of her heart, and would absolutely positively die for that nametag. Tsumugi wore it over her blouses, her button-ups, her t-shirts, jackets, everything. It may have become a bad habit at some point, but took too long for anyone to notice it. 

That ugly tag caused a wide array of recognition, especially when she was out and about in the city. Teenagers were her most frequent customers. Ones with Monokuma charms on their cellphones and dull school uniforms. 

They asked “Are you working for Team Danganronpa?” with their eyes sparkling like a night star.

Tsumugi would nod and say “I am!” And beam the fakest smile she could muster up. And their eyes would shine like headlights.

“Can I get an autograph?” They’d question her. Who even wants an autograph from some random teenager girl, with zero fame, who just works for the clothing department? There’s nothing special about Tsumugi Shirogane, she’s bland. That’s what surprises people when she says “I am working for Team Danganronpa.” 

 

Tsumugi’s home was in the heart of town, an apartment where she stayed with her mother and where she could look out the window and see a homemade light show of blurred neon colors. She’d rest her chin in her sweaty palm and blink idly at glossy colors flashing by, a pencil resting on a blank sheet of paper in the other hand. Crumbled papers lay at her feet, ones with outfits that looked ridiculous placed on them. 

Danganronpa 52 had come to a close recently, which meant audition for season 53 would come soon after, and for that reason she spent hours up in the morning thinking of ideas.

Tsumugi’s eyes glanced at an electric clock on one of those said fateful nights. Four fifty-six blinded her sensitive eyes; she blinked softly to rid her brain of the embodied red numbers that appeared when she closed her eyes.  
She adjusted her glasses, pushing aside the page for her protagonist; a picture-perfect girl with golden hair and bright eyes. A child any parent would dream of. She was so perfect, Tsumugi thinks, that nobody will know what she’s really up to. She grimaced, a perfect plan, a formula, playing out in her head. 

With a gentle chuckle, Tsumugi stood from her desk and lay down flat on her bed, fully clothed. If she was able to fall asleep quickly enough, she would have 3 hours and 45 minutes to sleep. 

 

Coffee was one of Tsumugi’s favorite drinks, next to tea. But tea wasn’t full of caffeine, which is why coffee became something daily to her. She liked hers with a plethora of sugar, to wake her up even more than the caffeine. She also loved it when there was latte art (but that made it difficult for her to drink it. It always looked pretty so she was left without taking a sip of it). 

To her luck, there was a small coffee shop down the street; sometimes active, but other times deserted. It was on her way to work, so she liked to visit there often. It smelled like stillness, a moment in time where she could take a breathe and compose herself. The seat under the blackboard, where very neat handwriting was plastered. A table all to herself, where she put her papers and pens and prints and writings and plans. 

 

Sunday, February 31st. A little less than a week until Danganronpa 53 auditions would begin. Tsumugi’s steady pace glides her out of her apartment and down the streets. An over-the-shoulder bag veiled in charms was in her possession, filled with notebooks and loose papers and dreams. 

The coffee shop looked empty from afar, no line stretching outside. Her stress faded-- some peace and quiet on her day off was exactly what Tsumugi needed. Tsumugi quickened her pace, her shoes clack, clicking as they hit the harsh concrete under them. Her hair, tied in a loose ponytail on the top of her head, swayed behind her like silk when she entered the cafe. 

A bell above her head chimed, signaling her arrival. Immediately, she notes the young girl sitting in “her” seat. She’s very focused on her laptop (covered in stickers), and doesn’t notice Tsumugi’s eyes glaring daggers at her while she orders her coffee.   
Holding a hot beverage in her shaking hands, Shirogane steps slowly towards the girl. Her footsteps uneven and unbalanced, she manages to stop just in front of the chair to organize herself. Looking at the girl with soft, fake, kind eyes, she grins.

“Do you mind if I sit across from you?” She asks, holding her coffee with both hands. The girl looks up, attracted to Tsumugi’s sudden appearance. Score.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” She says, and Tsumugi takes a hand off her coffee cup to pull out a chair. She takes her bag off, pulling out a notepad and pen and then shuffled her chair so her torso was practically pressed against the table’s edge.

They sit in silence for a second, trying to think of what to say.

“So… Do you go to high school?” The girl across from Tsumugi asks. Her hair is midnight black, swept in two braids at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are blue, royal blue, and bulky glasses enclose them. 

“Ah- I don’t. I’m working for a company actually. What about you?” Tsumugi asks, trying to keep as brief as possible while flipping open her notebook to a blank page. 

“I’m in university, I came from overseas.” She smiles, continuing to type away on her laptop.

“I see, I see. What are you studying?” Tsumugi asks, trying her best to keep the conversation flowing. She taps a pen against the paper, trying to think of where to start.

“Programming and robotics.” She replies briefly, her eyes flickering. She wants to say more, and Tsumugi knows it. 

“Oh?” Shirogane repeats, putting her pen to her chin. “What do you work on, then?” 

“I’m working on an AI for a group project at the moment,” The girl says, flipping her computer around for Tsumugi to see. The girl takes a swig of her coffee, putting it down. It makes an empty hollow bump, suggesting it was empty. 

Sure enough, on the screen was brilliant green numbers and letters jumbled together in a programming poem. “It responds to outside activity, and polls, mostly. Meaning it’s not controlled completely by one person.” She says, beaming.  
“That sounds really fancy! You must be very smart.” Tsumugi comments, taking a sip of her own coffee, then stares down at her blank canvas. The girl continues to ramble, but Tsumugi had lost interest seconds ago. She pretends to pay attention, nodding whenever it felt necessary.

A robot; robots are cool, right? Teenagers love robots, kids love robots. Robots are cool. Never in Danganronpa years before had they had a robot. Of course, they had AIs, but never a living robot that spoke to characters and could physically interact with them. 

It was perfect.

Tsumugi’s hand went dashing across the paper, ink lines scratchily following it. A robot, someone to represent the embodiment of hope itself. He’d be so popular, Tsumugi imagined. It may be a hassle building him, though. Tsumugi’s sketches originally had larger, sparse metal panels. But robots had to be cool, so they became more. More and more metal panels until his entire person was a heap of metal. She smiled, it was perfect; picture-perfect. 

The first real character (excluding her picture-perfect blonde protagonist) of Tsumugi’s dream came to; one who would start a line of people and talents and stories and a fake reality would come to. 

Tsumugi excused herself from the table, thanking the unnamed girl for her advice, and tossing her cup into a nearby trash, watching as it sunk into an unknown darkness. Smiling as she skipped out, Tsumugi was on her way.

 

On her second day off, Tsumugi chose to get out and see some things she hadn’t before. The world was large, meaning there was an array of things to do and see. In the early hours of the morning (Tsumugi had woken up early, surprisingly) she chose to browse the internet for any interesting activities.

To fill her day up, she chose a few things to put in her planner. The planner itself was blue, covered in stickers of anime characters whose names everyone knew, and an overabundance of sparkles and stars. Her handwriting was small, cute cursive, always in purple ink (so she wouldn’t forget).

At 11AM, she had immediately decided to go to a local history museum. A tourist hotspot, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be too crowded. It was filled with ancient art from both Eastern and Western history, which fascinated her.   
For 3PM she had a dentist’s appointment, unfortunately. It shouldn’t have been too long. 

And at 7PM there was supposed to be an arts show at a school not too far away from the town. Her eyes lit up, there was bound to be potential there. Something would spark her brain before the time was up and she would miss her chance.

She slapped her cheeks, swiftly trying to regain her train of thought, and shuffled to the restroom to take a shower. 

 

Tsumugi Shirogane didn’t like the cacophony of sounds on her way to the bus stop. Cars, people, mothers with screaming children, businessmen, everyone; (people wearing surgical masks were quiet, which she appreciated). 

Her hand traced her jawline uselessly in an attempt to distract herself from everyone around her. The bus wasn’t to arrive for another 20 minutes, as it made its round all around the city. Hoisting herself to her feet, Shirogane noted the oddity of a man, predictably in his late 50s, bearing a hat and cape like a child. A child who played dress-up (just like Tsumugi had been) and tried to ignore the ignorance of the world.

She kept watch of the stop unconsciously, and trudged over to the man instinctively. He had started his performance already, clearly. A large (presumably fake) smile planted on his face as he was begging passerbys for a volunteer. His hand was extended, to anyone who was willing to help the man gain a little more cash to keep him by. 

It was sad, and Tsumugi contemplated gripping his hand tightly and aiding his path to fortune and to being the best magician out there.

But she didn’t. And ambling back towards the now-arrived bus with her bag slinged over her shoulder, Tsumugi Shirogane secretly wished nobody would come to his aid. 

 

Sitting at a small museum cafe, Shirogane put her hands to her cheeks and scrunched them up high so her field of vision was blocked from her sketchpad. What do magicians look like? She needed one, and they’d be a fan-favorite for sure. 

Witch hats are neat, so she wanted to incorporate that for sure. Her mind drifted off suddenly to how tired she was all of the sudden. Then it hit her. A tired, sleepy magician with a witch’s hat; it was perfect.

Sketching it out quietly, she wanted the magician to hide their emotions, but in a way so that when their close one died, they’d absolutely explode.

It was perfect. It was so ideal. It was despairful, and Tsumugi loved it.

 

Stepping through the museum as raucous went through one ear and out the other, a blue-haired Danganronpa employee kept her eyes focused on one specific monument. She stood with her face almost pressed to the glass cage, her breath staining the once-clean surface.

It was a book, one of a story and a song Tsumugi sang in preschool once. She didn’t understand it at the time, but she decided that now she wanted to have this book in her fiction world. 

The Caged Child.

 

Tsumugi Shirogane made her way to the art portion of the museum next, at about one in the afternoon (she checked her the time on her smartphone). It was then she noticed how empty the museum was itself. People weren’t interested in the past, they wanted to know the future. Tsumugi didn’t know if that was a beautiful thing or a disgusting one. 

Scanning through the almost-empty hallways of the gallery, her eyes wandered to the magnificently painted pieces. A gleam in her eye, she saw young women in kimonos, and paintings depicting war and oceans and happiness and fear and she saw the world from another eye. 

Statues hovered over her like a watchguard, catching her every moment as she stepped around and glanced at the western carvings (the tiki statue was her favorite). Being handed a pamphlet at the entrance of the building, she scanned through it in hopes that there would be anything left. Unfortunately, there wasn’t.

Stepping out of the museum on the white marble tile with her hopes shattered, she picks up a sticky note with the word “Danganronpa” written in neat handwriting. She stuffed in her bag vigorously

 

Shuffling in the bustling towns of Tokyo were annoying sometimes, especially being someone as frail and weak as Tsumugi. Despite her initial appearance, she was nowhere near strong. She may be able to pick up a box or two, but nothing more. She was weak and had to endure being pushed around. 

Clutching her smartphone in one hand with her bag hugging her like a koala, Tsumugi Shirogane let out a breathe she didn’t realize she was holding in upon entering the dental industry. She smiled (fakely) and walked up to the (fake) lady at the desk who wore a (fake) grin (and everything was fake fake fake). 

Shirogane steps towards the seats, where a young man and his child sat. Tsumugi kept her eyes focused on the walls. Painted with fish, fish as bright blue as diamonds and fish as green as a new tennis ball and fish as red as blood (but not Danganronpa blood). They all swam like a family towards their goal, which was probably an inevitable death. 

When her name was called, Tsumugi Shirogane quickly made her way to the room where people with surgical masks stared at her and their voices were muffled and they said things Tsumugi didn’t understand.

That scared her; things she didn’t understand were things Tsumugi Shirogane was scared of.

 

Tsumugi Shirogane stepped out of the office with eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as she stared down at the screen of her cell phone with rumor of Amami Rantaro being in the new season of Danganronpa. 

That’s one less student to make, she grumbled, stepping outside to reveal slick rain traveling from the heavens. Sighing, Tsumugi tucked her smartphone into her bag quickly and made a run for the nearest bus stop.

She sat with her thighs pressed together, and glanced at the blinding of the screen on her cellphone. Four in the evening, and then sun sat at the peak of the Earth. Though she could not see it, Tsumugi Shirogane imagined it. 

Her fantasies were quickly interrupted by a (presumably) high school student. Her eyes were a deep red, which was very odd, because she clearly hadn’t been crying. Her pupils were crimson and if looks could kill, Tsumugi would be deceased when the girl glared at her. Her hair was brown, and it reached all the way to her ankles like Rapunzel. It was damp, and the water that hit the floor was from her hair. 

It was tied in two low ponytails, and the girl scrunched the ends of her skirt with her whitening knuckles. Tsumugi hadn’t even realized she was staring until the girl mumbled:

“Need something?” 

Tsumugi’s eyes opened wide, apologizing softly and said ‘no’. She turned back to stare at the cement, her brain plotting what kind of girl she would be in a Danganronpa game. Tsumugi wondered how painful her death could be.

 

The bus ride was slow and alarming. Tsumugi would occasionally eye the highschool girl, who ringed her hair from its moisture. Her face was stoic, and the refusal to change her emotion was almost threatening. She kept her eyes away for the most part, her fingers tapping away at her cell phone screen, in attempt to try and make a character that mirrored this girl. 

She’s a liar; they all are, right?

 

Tsumugi’s lacy parasol wouldn’t do for the worsening rain. She grabbed a black one quickly and looked back at her mother, who was asleep on the couch. In small, cute cursive she wrote the note of her departure on a sticky note in purple pen and stamped it on the wall. Right next to the magnet of a cute anime girl with a frilly maid dress. 

She sighed softly, locking the door behind her. 

 

Tsumugi Shirogane hated crowds, which is why she was especially glad to work in such a small group in Team Danganronpa. They didn’t do much, but the pay was alright and she enjoyed what she did. 

Because Tsumugi Shirogane hates crowds, she hated this dumb school gathering. A dumb school gathering at Stone College Prep (a school she barely knew anything about). She wasn’t even a student, nor a student’s mother. She felt unknown and so new to the situation. 

Like a busy bee, Shirogane strolled around at the exhibits. Her eyes darted around, smiling gingerly at a girl who was telling a group of adults about her astronomy project and sighing in both disgust and happiness at a small boy who told a small girl about spiders.

A shy girl told an old woman and a few other children about her machine that she claimed “could change the world” Tsumugi doubted this, but noted it and turned away hastily before anyone noticed her presence. 

She turned around so swiftly she didn’t even notice the student who stood behind her. They hit heads, and although it didn’t very much hurt Tsumugi (since she wasn’t speeding) the other girl with long hair clutched her head.

“I-I’m so sorry-” The girl said her eyes opening and drowned with worry. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I’m so sorry I bumped into you.” She apologized, taking her hands cautiously off her head. It was red, and the tiniest bit of guilt bloomed in Tsumugi.

“It’s fine, it was my fault anyway.” Tsumugi sighed, and the girl quickly regained her composure. Her hair was odd, tied in two pigtails that looped and twirled like a rollercoaster. Like a braid simply gone wrong. The girl sighed,

“Still, I’m sorry. I should be keeping an eye out,” She clapped her hands together. “I’m part of the student council! I need to keep watch. P-Please have a nice time.” And once she bowed in respect and apology, the girl scurried off like a scared mouse. 

 

Tsumugi sighed, making her way to the auditorium just like everyone else had minutes ago. Her eyes were too focused on a painting of a mask, almost one like a clown, but once she noticed the absence of everyone else, she quickly ran to the auditorium with her shoes click clacking under her. 

When she opened the doors quietly to the large gymnasium (doubled as an auditorium), Tsumugi had quickly noticed the dimming of the lights, and stood silently in the back. A middle-aged man (presumably the headmaster) announced his name, although Tsumugi was half listening, and introduced a few acts. A group who performed a theatrical act, a boy who sang a song with a powerful voice. 

But the one act that had Tsumugi’s full attention was a pianist. A kind-eyed girl with short black hair stepped on stage where a grand piano had been placed. Tsumugi faintly heard the words “Clair de Lune” before the middle-aged man stepped off stage with his “fancy” tuxedo. 

It was quiet, and although Tsumugi Shirogane could barely heard the soft playing of the piano, it was hypnotizing.

Clair de Lune. 

Clair de Lune. 

Clair de Lune. 

Moonlight.

 

Tsumugi Shirogane gathered her belongings very quickly during the time when she was usually showering to look pretty. It was the day of the Danganronpa 53 auditions, and Tsumugi was almost too late. She could tell. 

The walk to Team Danganronpa Headquarters was especially slow today. She breathed hard, everything located in her bag that hugged her like a koala. Tsumugi Shirogane even failed to notice the hundreds of children in the headquarters, some yelling at her to “wait her turn”. 

Nothing mattered except her meeting with her boss and her bag which hung onto her like a koala and held her new life and word. Her existence was on the line; a line thin as all hell. Once she made it up the line, with sweating high school students in line waiting for the turn to die, Tsumugi breathed. 

Stepping into the audition rooms quietly, Tsumugi Shirogane was sweating profusely while sparkles still sat in her eyes. The thick strings that hung from her shoulder she gripped tightly, like her life was dependent on it (it kind of was). 

“Good morning, Shirogane-san,” Her boss said. A tall woman who would carry an aura of superiority and dominance wherever she went. “Anything I can do for you? We’re on a bit of a tight schedule at the mo--” 

“I have a plot the killing game!” She interrupted. “I-I’m sorry it’s a bit late but I’d like you to take a look!” Tsumugi scurried to their desk, behind the large camera and dumped her bag onto the table.

Papers flew out, scattering across the table. Her agenda, her Danganronpa tag, her fancy purple pen, a magnet with a pretty maid on it, her sticky note with the word “Danganronpa” written on it, dust bunnies and paper clips and binder clips. Her life was pretty much in the bag. 

“Shirogane-san there are only 14 characters, including Rantaro Amami,” Her boss mumbled. “Where are the other two?” Tsumugi slammed her finger on the desk. A picture of a boy who had passed her on the way in.

His hair was black and a large portion blocked the bridge of his nose. Shuichi Saihara. Shuichi Saihara. Detective.

“This one!” She said, “He- He can be the detective! Everyone loves detectives, don’t they? We haven’t had one in a while!” She beamed, the beads of sweat traveling down her face.

“And the last one? The 16th student?” Tsumugi pondered. She can’t believe she hadn’t counted. She hadn’t counted and her world was crumbling under her feet and she wanted to fall to her knees and sob because nothing was going her way.

Tsumugi Shirogane didn’t like when things didn’t go her way. She was scared. She didn’t understand why, and that scared her.

“I’ll be the 16th student! The mastermind!” She yelled very suddenly, before her brain had the chance to think. “I-I’m a cosplayer, so that can be my talent!” She cried, waving her hands furiously in front of her. 

The group at the table sat in silence, Tsumugi shuffled uncomfortably, taking in the sights of the room to distract herself. Her boss spoke up:

“Could you sign here, Shirogane-san? I need your confirmation on this.” She was organizing the papers, clipping them with a sparkly binder clip that sat on top of the drawing of her protagonist. 

“Of course!” She smiled, not thinking when she gripped a purple pen to sign her name in cute, small cursive.

Tsumugi Shirogane

Purple is a color that, when you use it to write something important, you have a smaller chance of forgetting it.

 

Tsumugi Shirogane didn’t forget. She didn’t forget the small Tsumugi Shirogane on the bottom of that ugly paper she never read.

Danganronpa was fake. The victims were fake. The killers were fake. The survivors were fake.

Tsumugi Shirogane was fake. With her fake smile, and her stupid fake Monokuma standing next to her as she was slammed into the ground during her stupid, fake, fake execution.


End file.
